


faded from the winter

by skrsgards



Series: The Kid (Shawshank Prisoner) Works [1]
Category: Castle Rock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 02:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17316548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skrsgards/pseuds/skrsgards
Summary: in which finding him helps her find herself





	faded from the winter

In the beginning, if you would have told her that she’d be housing a prisoner in her home for Christmas this year, she would have laughed in your face. If you would have told her that she’d eventually fall in love with said prisoner, she would have called you a liar.

Yet, here it was; Christmas time. And here he was, the prisoner. Staying in her home, sleeping under her roof, eating her food, using her amenities.

Yes, some months ago, she would have laughed in your face if you’d told her that this would be happening. But now? Well, those things had come true. He was present in her life, had been since the day he’d been found in the depths of Shawshank.

And she loved him. Oh, how she loved him.

It had happened gradually. The day she’d met him, her heart broke for him. The boy - or man, rather - who’d been found in a cage in the very guts of the prison, in a cell block that had been completely forgotten, destroyed by fire and left to deteriorate.

It couldn’t be said how long he’d been down there. But from the look of him, it had been years. He was skin and bones, and she began to wonder if a minor gust of wind might blow him clear across the courtyard. He looked like a frightened animal, afraid of the slightest sound and touch. He didn’t speak. The only thing they’d gotten out of him was a name - Henry Deaver.

The warden was on the case, trying to figure out just who Henry Deaver was. In the meantime, she stayed behind. As a psychiatrist, she’d worked with many of the prisoners in this place. She’d been in the presence of some pretty rough characters, ones who gave her the creeps, and others who weren’t all that bad. She’d seen it all. But she’d never been around one quite like him.

He watched her from where she stood, after the doctor and nurse had left the room. His eyes, two different colors, seemed to stare right through her. But she wasn’t scared. In fact, she felt an odd tugging in her heart. The intense need to help him, to take care of him. The feeling grew so strong that it took her breath away, as if she’d been kicked in the chest.

And as time went on, as Henry Deaver was located and eventually came to town to help this young man, as the legal wrinkled and hiccups were all smoothed out, as they began to talk about releasing him from prison, she was there. Helping, overseeing. Making sure this young man was treated right. He was so fragile, she feared what might happen if he was pushed too hard. She knew he needed gentleness and kindness.

Because she was around him so much, the young man, whom everyone had started referring to as ‘The Kid’, began to warm up to her. He depended on her, he found comfort in her presence and developed a sort of fixation on her. He saw her as his guardian angel, a caring, nurturing character. The only form of care and nurturing he’d received prior to her was from Warden Lacy, and that hadn’t been very much at all to begin with. A woman’s presence was different, especially this woman’s.

The day he was released from prison, she was there at the front gates, waiting for him. Alongside her was Henry Deaver, who’d taken The Kid’s case upon himself. She and Henry were the only two people who wanted to help him, it seemed.

For The Kid, the first few days out of prison were rough, to say the least. Everything seemed so harsh and bright, he felt like a fish out of water. How do you learn to join society all over again after you’ve been locked up for nearly three decades? He tried to remember what it was like before. But he was so far removed from that time, the memory seemed so hazy in his mind. That, and he’d basically been brainwashed from the moment he’d been found by Dale Lacy. There were many a day where the young man began to believe everything the old warden was telling him. Maybe he was born from evil. Maybe he was Satan himself.

The one person who refused to believe there was darkness in him, and only saw light, was her. And now here she was, by his side, leaning towards him in a protective manner as they sat in the middle of a sterile doctor’s office. She hadn’t grabbed his hand, though she felt a strong urge too. She’d been careful with physical contact thus far. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable and cause him to revert back into his shell. She’d built a sort of relationship with him, an unspoken connection. She’d never forgive herself if she destroyed that.

After the doctor appointments and working out the legal aspect of it all, an issue arose. Where was he going to live? She didn’t want to say goodbye after spending nearly every single day with him since he’d been found inside the prison. He needed to be somewhere where he could have time to heal from his trauma a grow accustomed to living life again. He was so broken, so fragile. It would take a long time for those open wounds to finally close up.

She only wanted what was best for him, and when Henry told her that he was having him stay just above Molly’s office, she wasn’t sure that was ideal. But, it was worth a shot. So, for the first night, that was where he stayed. She didn’t sleep a wink that night as she lay in her own bed. She was worried about him. And she began to think that maybe this was wrong, that maybe she was a little too fond of him. But as she stared at the ceiling, she couldn’t shake that odd feeling in her gut. It was as if she was connected to him in a way.

When she finally did sleep, she dreamt that he’d disappeared. And when she made her way to Molly’s office that morning, she found that he really had disappeared. After searching frantically, he was found staring over the city, dangerously close to the edge of the rooftop he’d climbed. Her heart lurched in her chest, and she feared that he might jump.

She fought the urge to run to him, and instead, approached him cautiously. “Hey,” she softly called. He turned his head slightly in the direction of her voice, acknowledging her. “What are you doing up here?”

He looked incredibly distressed, and she inched closer to him, wanting to be of comfort.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, sounding completely hopeless. “They should have left me where they found me.”

“How about you come down from here with me and we can talk about it?” She suggested. She was calm, steady, but on the inside, anxiety had roared to life, and she feared that he wouldn’t come with her. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded once, and turned to her, letting her lead him back the way he came. She only stopped to breathe a sigh of relief when their feet were on solid ground again.

After that day, she knew he needed to stay with her. She was the only one who could provide the care he needed. She felt that it was selfish of her to say that, but it wasn’t because of her selfishness. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt like it was her duty to take care of him. She was made for this.

Henry agreed that it was ideal for The Kid to stay with her for the time being, and soon, it was just the two of him, in her car, heading in the direction of her home. It was quiet, save for the hum of the engine as she drove. She was used to the silence with him, though. It was comfortable. And even if it wasn’t, she had no choice but to sit in it with him. Any words he uttered were few and far between.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, as she pulled up outside of her home. “You’ll be safe here, with me.”

Slowly, he turned his head, gazing at her. The corners of his mouth seemed to turn up slightly, showing a hint of a smile. “Thank you,” he whispered, so quietly she wouldn’t have heard if she wasn’t paying attention.

And thus began a transition for both of them. She had a lot to adjust to with inviting him into her home to live, but she’d manage. It was him she was worried about. How would he adjust to it? Would he be affected negatively or positively? Would he thrive, or would he revert back into his shell? All of these concerns plagued her as the days went on. Only time would tell how it all would turn out.

At first, it took a little while to get used to it. She often worried that she’d made the wrong decision, and was detrimental to him rather than helpful. However, slowly but surely, he began to open up. Warming up to his surroundings, and her, almost as if he’d been frozen and was finally thawing. She helped him as best as she could, making sure he was comfortable, getting the rest he needed, and the nourishment, too. At first, he only wanted white bread. He refused to eat anything more than that. But she was patient. She didn’t push him. The last thing she wanted was for him to retreat back into his shell and their progress to be lost.

Nighttime was a struggle. Upon the first night of him staying with her, she came to realize that he was plagued with nightmares. Surely brought on by his past trauma haunting his mind, she figured. Sleeping in the dark was also difficult for him. He’d spent so long living in darkness. It wasn’t a friend to him. It was an enemy. She bought a nightlight and put it in the guest room he was sleeping in. He didn’t speak, but he gave her a smile that said everything - thank you.

The nightlight did help, but even so, there was another issue, something else that he suffered from. Loneliness. It had been so long since he’d felt the warmth and comfort of a loving, human touch. He saw that comfort in her, but he wasn’t sure how to ask for it to be bestowed upon him. He was afraid she would be disgusted with him, or that he’d upset her and he’d ruin a good thing. But he needed her.

One night, when he woke from a particularly unsettling nightmare, he couldn’t take it any longer. He climbed out of bed and padded across the hall to her bedroom. Despite the late hour, he found her still awake, reading a book in her bed. He stood there, watching her through the crack in the door for a moment before he gently tapped. She jumped slightly, startled by the sound before she cleared her throat. “Come in.”

He nudged the door open, and cautiously stepped into the room, as if he was fearful that something would jump out and bite him. He looked at her, standing awkwardly in the middle of her room, all crooked postured and uncertain. She smiled softly, speaking again. “What do you need?”

He wasn’t sure what to say, but he turned, sort of pointing his body towards the bed. “Had a nightmare,” he mumbled.

Her face softened with sympathy. “Aw, again? I’m sorry.”

Again, he fell silent, before speaking again. “I don’t...want to be alone.”

She closed her book, placing it on the nightstand as she straightened a little. He looked so helpless, and she knew what he was insinuating. He wanted to stay in her room for the night. Knowing this probably wasn’t the best idea, she let him climb into bed with her anyway. How could she say no to him?

He offered a tiny smile as he shuffled over to the bed, lifting the cover and settling in beside her. he folded his long, lithe frame in order to fit in the bed, curling up into a ball, or as much as he could manage of one. She gazed down at him, and took notice of how small a man of such great stature looked. He resembled a scared child, and yet again, her chest ached, and she felt the need to protect him.

She shut off the light that night, and drifted off to sleep. When she woke, The Kid was wrapped around her, keeping her from moving. His face was pressed into the plushness of her breast, and his arms and legs were encircling her. Despite her movements being restricted, she couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t have the heart to wake him, so she stayed there, opting to run her fingers through his soft brown hair while he slept.

He awoke not long after with what sounded like a squeak leaving his throat as he stretched. She thought it was the most adorable thing she’d ever heard. When he opened those big, mismatched eyes, she smiled down at him, and he returned her smile.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Morning,” he hummed.

“How did you sleep?” She asked. “Anymore nightmares?”

He simply shook his head. And from that moment on, he slept beside her in bed every night. The nightmares left him, and he was able to get the rest he so desperately needed. Along with that care a new form of attachment. The feelings he’d already had for her grew tenfold. She meant so much to him, she took such good care of him, showed him so much love and tenderness. How could he not fall in love with her? But she could never love him back, he’d resigned himself to that thought. He was a monster, nothing more than a creature found in a cage, no one could ever love him in return.

But she did love him. She supposed she’d begun to fall for him the day he’d been found beneath Shawshank. Her feelings for him had only grown, burning like a fire deep within her belly. She never wanted to part with him, and if that day ever did come, she would be broken, she just knew it.

She didn’t dare tell him how she felt. She would never take advantage of his vulnerability and confuse him like that. This wasn’t about her feelings, this was about him and his well-being. That came first, and everything else came second. But their attraction to one another pulled like two magnets drawn together. It was inevitable.

As the days went on, and days turned into weeks, and soon months, she discovered many things about him. She learned that he loved listening to rain, but hated storms (and could often be found seeking comfort in her arms from the loudness of a raging storm). She learned that he liked the color blue, that dogs made him smile, that classical music was his favorite. He was the most tender, delicate soul she’d ever met in her life, and her heart swelled with love for him.

Above all that, she learned one important detail that she’d thought she would never learn - his name.

He’d uttered it to her one night, as they lay in bed together. His head was on her chest, and she had a book open before her, reading silently as he snuggled up against her. His interruption was unexpected, but welcome.

“Henry,” he simply said.

She was confused for a moment, wondering if he was referring to Henry Deaver. “Hm?”

“My name,” he continued, moving to look at her. His face was etched with...well, she couldn’t read his expression. “It’s Henry.”

“Your name?” She reiterated, still unsure.

He nodded once. He kept his story to himself, though. The story of how he’d come to exist in this alternate realm would have to wait. The time wasn’t right yet, and he wasn’t sure if it would ever be.

She was quiet for a moment, letting it sink in. He’d actually told her his name. She’d thought he wasn’t serious at first, but she could see in his eyes that he was sincere. She smiled then, reaching out to brush her fingers over his cheek. “Henry,” she spoke, letting it roll off her tongue. “It suits you.”

He nodded, as if agreeing with her. He’d been called many names. Devil, Deceiver, Kid. But she was the first person in this life to call him by his actual name, and the sound of it coming off her lips was music to his ears. He wrapped both arms around her, holding her close. And together, they drifted off to sleep.

In the coming weeks, Henry seemed to grow more protective of her. Rather than her protecting him, it was the other way around. It was this fierce, driving force within him. It shone through one day when she came home after a day of grocery shopping. She’d left Henry at home, not wanting to put him through the rude stares and comments they’d receive in public. The townspeople sure did like to gossip.

But even at home, it was unavoidable. Her neighbor had yet to warm up to Henry, and she was certain that the stubborn old man never would. He accused her of harboring the devil in her home, constantly grumbling about how she was putting the whole neighborhood in danger and should be ashamed of herself. She never listened to him, but this day in particular, that changed.

She’d pulled into the driveway, and Henry, who’d been watching through the window like a puppy waiting for its owner to return home, came outside to greet her. She smiled softly at him as she climbed out of the car. “Hey,” she quietly said. He returned her smile and lifted his hand slightly to wave.

She popped open the trunk, and Henry shuffled over, volunteering to help bring in groceries, as he always did. She let him, knowing he liked to feel useful. As she opened the back door to pull out what wouldn’t fit in the trunk, she was startled by a voice behind her.

“Still haven’t gotten rid of him, I see.”

She whirled around, placing a hand over her quickened heart, brought on by the scare the man had given her. “Geez Mr. Davis, you scared me,” she breathed.

The old man sneered, shaking his head. “You’d better do something about him, or I will,” he continued.

She bristled at that, folding her arms over her chest. “Thank you for your concern, but I have it under control. It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business if it’s next door to me!” He all but shouted.

At that time, Henry was stepping back outside to gather more bags. He saw the situation unfolding, and frowned, immediately approaching the two. Mr. Davis looked up to see him coming, and he shook his head.

“I’m done sharing my neighborhood with the likes of him!”

She shook her head. “Then you are free to move to a different neighborhood, Mr. Davis.”

“I’ve lived here for fifty years! I’ll die in this house. Nobody’s going to drive me out of it, especially not Satan and his whore!”

Before she could even register what was happening, she saw a blur out of the corner of her eye, and suddenly, Henry had the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground. “Don’t speak to her like that,” he lowly growled. She’d never seen him angry before, but it was clear that was what he was feeling in that moment. It gathered in the muscles of his back, tensing and bunching beneath his gray t-shirt.

“Henry,” she spoke, calmly but firmly. “Let him go.”

Slowly but surely, Henry lowered the man, placing him on his feet again. But not before towering over him and hissing, “don’t ever come over here again.”

She expected Mr. Davis to have some sort of retort, as he always did. But the man looked terrified, and simply nodded, turning on his heel and rushing away, back to his home.

Henry turned back to her, suddenly looking very small and ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, thinking that maybe he’d scared her and ruined everything.

She shook her head, reaching up to cradle his cheek in her palm. “It’s okay. Thank you for standing up for me,” she murmured. He let his shoulders drop, hunching over to rest his forehead against hers. “Let’s go inside, hm? I’ll start dinner and we can have a nice quiet evening.”

And so they did.

They were happy together. Henry felt whole for the first time in...well, for the first time in 27 years. No one else made him feel the way she could. She’d truly rescued his soul from the very depths of despair, she’d mended his broken spirit, and for that, he was eternally grateful. He wasn’t sure how he could ever repay her. She didn’t expect him to do so, though. She was simply content with his presence, knowing that he was safe and sound, that he was with her.

She’d never told him how she felt about him. What they shared was unspoken. It was clear that they cared for one another, but neither of them said a word about it. They only continued on, growing closer and closer, their attraction to one another growing into something so intense, something so wonderful and deep. But there came one dark, wintry night that she regretted not telling him how she truly felt about him. It was then that she swore she would never leave anything unsaid ever again.

It was Christmas Eve, her favorite night of the whole year. Ever since she was a child, she’d love Christmas Eve, even more so than Christmas Day itself. There was just something about it that made her heart sing. When she was a child, it had been the anticipation of a visit from Santa Claus, knowing she’d wake up on Christmas morning to find presents scattered beneath the tree. When she grew older, Christmas still held that wonder. She just no longer bought into the belief that a man in a red suit dropped off presents beneath the tree.

She was alone now, besides Henry being with her, that is. Her parents were back east, and she had no other family in Castle Rock. It was just her, and she’d been alone for the past few Christmases. Sure, she had a few friends she’d shared the holiday with. But now, she had someone to celebrate the season with. Someone she loved dearly. It made it all so much sweeter. She wanted to spoil him with gifts, give him everything he deserved and more. She didn’t respect anything in return, and she hardly thought he’d even know what to get her, or how to go about doing so.

She took the time to decorate her house for the season, and he wanted nothing more than to help her out. So he did. Whatever task she gave him, he eagerly completed, wanting to please her. When she smiled at him and expressed her gratitude, it made his heart warm, and it made him feel useful.

When it came time to put the tree up, which she always saved for Christmas Eve, he was more than happy to assist her in doing so. She was grateful to have his help with lugging the tree from the attic, and she knew he’d come in handy for when it was time to put the star on top. There’d be no more of her climbing onto the arm of the couch just to reach it.

The weather called for a messy snowstorm that night. She was totally fine with that, since she didn’t have to drive in it. There’d be a white Christmas, which made her happy as could be. She couldn’t wait to wake up the next morning to a fresh blanket of snow covering the earth.

The temperatures were rapidly lowering in the night, slipping into the teens, with windchill that was surely minus zero. While the wind howled outside, and the snow whipped around, she and Henry were snug and warm in her little house, with the fire blazing in the fireplace. The tree had been put up, and now, they were focusing on decorating it, placing ornaments on each bough.

Watching Henry decorate the tree gave her so much delight. He was so careful, large hands delicately placing ornaments here and there. It was amazing how a man so big could be so graceful and gentle. He reminded her of a deer, in an odd sort of way.

He caught her staring as he finished hanging an ornament on one of the higher branches, and his cheeks flushed pink, the blush reaching his ears. She couldn’t help but smile, suddenly warmed with an overwhelming amount of love and adoration for him. She stepped closer, gazing up at him as she slowly slipped an arm around his waist. He responded by slinging a lanky arm around her shoulders.

“Thank you for your help,” she softly said.

He ducked his head bashfully. “You’re welcome.”

She held his gaze, and for just a moment, a hush fell over the two of them, their eyes locked, until those heterochromatic ones of his flickered down to her lips. The seconds ticked by, and as they did, the pair leaned in closer and closer, an invisible force drawing them together. He lifted his hand, gingerly placing it against her cheek as he lowered his head.

The two jumped apart at the sound of the oven timer going off, startled at the sound filling the previously silent room. She couldn’t help but giggle at their skittishness, and Henry smiled in amusement as well. Reluctantly, she slipped away, heading into the kitchen to turn off the timer and pull the gingerbread men she’d made out of the oven. This was another tradition of hers. Gingerbread cookies and hot chocolate while she decorated the tree on Christmas Eve. Yet another tradition she was happy to finally have someone to share with.

As she set the tray of cookies out to cool, the took a glance at the fireplace, taking note of how the flames had died down, reduced to embers. “Henry?” She called, at which the aforementioned came shuffling into the kitchen, looking at her with inquisitive eyes.

“Can you go out and get some firewood from the shed? I forgot to fill up the basket when I was out there last, so we’re all out of wood inside.”

With a nod, he obliged. “Okay,” he quietly said, turning to go.

“Make sure you bundle up!” She called after him. “It’s freezing out there.”

She heard another soft “okay” as he headed down the hall towards the back door. In the meantime, the busied herself with putting together all of the ingredients for hot chocolate. With the scents of ginger and cocoa filling the air, it made for a wonderful perfume of familiarity and nostalgia. She hummed to herself as she worked, completely at ease, in her element.

Figuring Henry would be back inside shortly, she hurried to finish the hot chocolate and pour it into two mugs, proceeding to plate her little gingerbread men and set everything out on the coffee table for them to enjoy while they finished decorating the tree. By this time, several minutes had passed, and Henry was still outside. She headed to the back door to check and see that the porch light was on, so he’d be able to see somewhat on his way back inside.

She glanced outside, trying to catch sight of him to make sure he’d found the wood without an issue. From where she stood at the door, the woodshed was visible, even through the thick, white snow pouring from the sky. From there, she’d surely be able to see him, or at least some sort of movement indicating that he was in the vicinity of the shed. But she saw no one. No sign of movement, nothing at all.

Her brow furrowed. How odd. Surely he hadn’t taken a wrong turn. He knew where the shed was. But as she looked on, she couldn’t shake that sudden odd feeling gathering in her gut. Something was wrong, she just knew. Without another moment’s hesitation, she moved to bundle up, shoving her feet into her snow boots and grabbing her coat, hat, and scarf. She tugged on a pair of gloves, grabbed the flashlight she kept on the top shelf of the hall closet, and headed outside.

The wind was so strong that a gust nearly knocked her over when she stepped outside. She cursed under her breath as she righted herself and stepped off the porch. She doubted he’d be able to hear her over the wail of the storm, but that didn’t stop her from shouting his name, glancing around as she did so, hoping to catch a glimpse of him and realize she was just over reacting.

But all she was met with was her empty yard. She attempted to track footprints, but the snow was falling so heavily and quickly that any tracks he had made were long gone. That feeling of dread only manifested itself deeper within her, and she groaned. Even so, she continued to search, calling his name, shining her light about. She’d searched every square inch of her backyard, but to no avail. He was nowhere to be found.

Where on earth would he have gone? Surely he wouldn’t have just walked away, not after how close they’d grown. But then again, maybe he had. Maybe she’d made him uncomfortable and had driven him away. But she shook that thought out of her mind the moment she thought it. That wasn’t the case, and she knew it. Something had happened, and she was overcome with the crippling urgency, the need to find him, and find him fast.

She kept shouting his name, shuffling further towards the back of the yard, where the woods met her land. She stopped there, standing dead still, staring into the foreboding woods, and somehow, she knew that was where he’d gone. She let out a breath before she stepped forward beginning the trek into the dark woods, guided only by the light of her flashlight.

Trying her best not to break down into a flurry of panic, she continued her search, desperately calling for him, although she doubted he could hear her over the wail of the wind. She was moving slow, the weather slowing her down considerably. If she was moving slow, she could imagine that Henry was, too, and that maybe it wouldn’t take her that long to catch up with him.

But oh, how wrong she was in thinking that.

As she carried on, so did the night, and soon, she realized that it had been nearly an hour since she’d started searching. She couldn’t feel her fingers or toes, and her face was numb from the cold. She had to turn back, she knew she had to. She needed to warm up, needed a moment to catch her breath and regain her bearings. But she was so frazzled that she hardly thought she would. 

Reluctantly, she turned back, trudging all the way through the woods and back towards her house, taking the time to glance behind her as she walked to make sure Henry wasn’t miraculously behind her, trying to get her attention. But he was not, she was alone, and with a heavy heart, she headed into the warm house, letting out an unsteady breath as she pushed the door shut behind her.

She closed her eyes for a moment, not bothering to quell the tears that gathered. Trembling from both the cold and her overwhelming emotions, she began to strip out of her layers, stopping once she reached her clothes beneath it all. She kicked off her boots, and soon stumbled further into the house, falling to her knees before the fireplace and instinctively curling up into herself. The tears fell freely then, trailing down her cold cheeks as she quietly cried. She couldn’t help but think of the worst. What if something terrible had happened to him?

She didn’t want to think that way, but she couldn’t quiet the horrific thoughts that flashed through her mind. She wasn’t sure what she would do if she lost him. He was everything to her. Her heart and soul, the most important part of her life. She used to think that he needed her, but now, she knew that it was the other way around. He’d given her life a new purpose. She needed him.

After spending a few moments on the floor, sniffling, shivering, and trying her hardest to pull herself together, she sat up. Maybe it was time for a plan B, time to seek out help. But her hopes for doing so were dashed when she picked up her phone to find that she did not have service. If she needed to go to the sheriff’s station, she’d have to drive. And there was no way she could drive in the conditions outside. She’d surely get herself killed.

She considered walking, but it would take her ages to reach town that way. She was alone, terribly alone. This almost sent her into another fit of tears, but she pulled herself together, shaking her head. “No,” she said, fists clenching. “You are going to find him, dammit.”

She straightened then, a new determination washing over her. Enough wallowing. It was time to find the one she loved. She hurried to change back into her winter gear, stopping to add another pair of pants and an extra shirt to keep herself warmer before she pulled on her coat, hat, and gloves all over again. She wrapped a scarf around her neck, making sure it was covering her nose, mouth, and ears before she headed back out into the storm.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed on, resuming her search. She combed the woods again, shouting Henry’s name periodically as she went deeper and deeper into the trees. The snow had let up some, but not much, and she still had difficulty seeing ahead of her, even with her flashlight. Even so, she continued, trying her best to pick out any form of movement other than snow.

Time passed, dragging on as her search continued. The further into the woods she got, the more her renewed resolve began to crumble, and that sense of dread and fear came creeping back. Those nagging questions nudged at her brain again. What if he was hurt? What if he’d left her on purpose? What if he was dead?

The thoughts, intrusive and crude, made her want to slam her head against the nearest tree. But she forced herself to move forward. She wasn’t going to give up, not yet. He had to be out here somewhere, and she could only hope and pray that he was safe. Time continued to pass, as it had been. She was growing extremely weary, her legs feeling like lead as she walked - more like stumbled - through the snow.

“Henry!” She shouted again, voice hoarse. Her foot caught on a protruding tree root buried beneath the snow, and she went down, hitting the ground hard, despite the snow somewhat cushioning her fall. She let out a loud cry, slamming her fist against the snow and kicking her feet, almost like she was having a temper tantrum. She moved so that she was resting in her knees, and she yelled out into the woods. “Please come back to me!”

The night carried on, and so did she. Exhausted, weak, ready to give up hope as she hour passed midnight and moved forth. She was ready to give up hope. Any determination she’d once had was gone, and her knees were threatening to buckle. Christmas Day dawned, and the sky began to lighten little by little. When she noticed this, she groaned within herself. She’d been searching all night. It seemed that it had all been a waste of her time and energy. Of course she hadn’t found him. Her suspicions had been correct, he really had left her.

But then, a beacon of hope.

The snow had finally cleared, the wind slowed, and the storm passed. All that was left was a white winter wonderland. As she stood there, leaning against a tree for support, her eyes caught sight of something dark. She snapped her head in the direction of it, squinting to get a better view. That looks like…

She was suddenly completely alert then, a newfound strength surfing through her as she rushed forward, stumbling through the shin high snow. The closer she got, the more confident she became that she wasn’t seeing things. This was real.

“Henry!” She cried, nearly slipping as she reached him. He wasn’t moving, his body still atop the blanket of white. Her heart dropped, and she turned him into his back. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she exclaimed, taking in the sight of her love, barely conscious, shivering violently.

“You’re going to be okay,” she assured him, “I’ve got you. Oh, I’ve got you.”

She managed to pull him upright so that he was leaning on her for support. But this proved to be extremely difficult. She barely had the strength to lift him, but her adrenaline helped a little with it. She just had to get him back to the house. She kept this thought in mind as she shuffled back through the woods. Just get him to the house.

It was amongst the hardest things she’d ever done physically, but she managed to get him through the woods and back to the house, and once she had him inside, her legs gave out, and both of them came crashing down to the floor. She let out a whimper, trying desperately to catch her breath. After a moment of letting it all register, she turned towards Henry.

She maneuvered her way to him, hovering over him. His eyes fluttered open slowly, and he stared up at her, though he was hardly fully conscious, seemingly on the verge of tears as he trembled from the cold. “I-I’m sorry,” he hoarsely whispered in the smallest, fragilest voice she’d ever heard come from him.

Her heart broke, but she couldn’t linger. She had to get him warm. “Come on, sweetheart,” she whispered, helping him shift positions a little so she could have access to remove any wet clothing. She wasn’t going to even attempt pulling him to stand yet. “L-let’s get you out of these clothes and into something warm.”

He was so cold that incoherent sounds were coming out of his mouth. His teeth chattered loudly, and it all brought tears to her eyes as she worked. She took off her own gloves and coat before she set about removing his coat, which had become wet from the snow, and then she pulled off his gloves, revealing his cold, pale hands. She took them in her own, holding them to her chest for a moment. “You’re going to be okay, Henry. I’ve got you.”

She worked slowly and carefully. This wasn’t her first time dealing with a hypothermia victim, but she could only pray that she’d remember all the steps that needed to be taken to help him. She kept whispering reassuring words to him, though she wasn’t sure how much of it he was actually hearing.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, “I’m going to get some blankets.”

She rose to stand, hurrying away on wobbly legs to the living room, where she kept a basket full of blankets. She lugged it back to the entryway, and knelt down again, beginning the process of wrapping Henry in blankets, covering him completely. Once she was finished, he was secured in a cocoon if various blankets. She would’ve marveled at how adorable he looked if she wasn’t at her wits end and filled with worry.

“I’ll be right back,” she assured him before she turned and headed back down the hall. She needed to get something warm in him. She hot chocolate she’d made the night before was still on the stove. Cold, but she could reheat it. Quickly, she turned on the burner, giving it a stir before she hurriedly made her way to her bedroom, changing out of her clothes and into a clean pair of sweatpants and a thick sweater, complete with wool socks. She’d been so focused on taking care of Henry that she’d hardly taken her own well being into account.

She rushed back out to the kitchen, where she began to prepare a mug and poured some of the now hot chocolate into it. She made her way back to poor Henry, taking a seat beside him. So he wouldn’t have to pull his arms from the blankets, she brought the mug to his lips. “Drink this, sweetheart. It’s hot chocolate.”

Timidly, he moved to take a sip, closing his eyes as the warm liquid went down his throat and seemingly warmed his insides. “Thank you,” he softly whispered.

“You’re welcome.” She ran her fingers through his hair as she spoke.

After a moment, he reached for more, so she gave him another drink, pulling it back once he was finished. He looked up at her then, eyes filled with shame. “I-I’m sorry,” he repeated what he’d said earlier.

“Don’t apologize. I found you, that’s what matters.”

There was so much he wanted to explain, so much she needed to understand. But he couldn’t get the words out, he didn’t have the strength. He’d have to tell her another time. Instead, he let her care for him. She was so careful, so gentle with him. Her sole mission was to make sure he was okay. He could feel his body rewarming, ever so slowly. The tremors began to subside, the feeling came back to his hands and feet.

She moved him then, into the living room where he could sit on the couch while she went outside to grab some wood to rekindle the fire. Soon, a fire blazed in the fireplace, and the atmosphere was calm again. The tree was left half finished from the night before, and it hardly felt like Christmas morning. She was still reeling from all that had taken place, but she’d relaxed a little, knowing that Henry was safe and sound.

“Let me get you something to eat,” she finally spoke, “how about some soup? Or I could-“

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. He didn’t want her to get up, even if she was only going into the other room. He wanted her close to him.

“You’ve been out there all night, you need to eat.”

“Stay,” he murmured, gazing her with those different colored eyes that she loved so much. How could she deny him?

“Okay. But in a little bit I’m going to go get some food ready for you.” Nonetheless, she settled down beside him, letting out a breath. They fell into silence again for a long while. She let her head rest upon his shoulder, and he let his rest atop her own. Together they were whole.

They sat there like that as the minutes ticked by, staring at the fire as it flickered and danced. After quite some time, she felt Henry shift beside her, and soon, her hand was clasped in his much larger one. She looked down at their entwined hands, and then into his face. The color had come back to his cheeks, and he no longer looked like he was at death’s door.

He squeezed her hand, and swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so. His eyes searched her face, and he was overcome with many emotions. He’d thought of this moment over and over again in the night, as he’d been trapped out there in that awful storm. He’d thought of her, how much he loved her, how she was his home. It was the only thing that had gotten him through the night. He needed her to know.

“I love you.” It came out as a whisper, soft and delicate.

She was quiet for a several moments, letting those words sink in. He loved her. She lifted her free hand to touch his face then, and he nuzzled into her palm. She said it back easily, without hesitation, and with complete conviction. “I love you too.”

There was so much left to say, but where could he start? The truth was threatening to bubble over, claw its way up his throat. The urge to set down his burden before her became so great. But he held back even still. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.

Instead, he decided to wordlessly express how he felt. He leaned towards her, locking eyes with her before he glanced at her lips again, just like he had the previous night. But he didn’t hesitate this time. He pressed his lips to hers in a sweet, gentle kiss that made his insides warm and her heart sing. When the kiss was broken, he let his forehead rest upon hers, and let out a breath. He’d wanted to do this for so long.

It was quiet for a moment before she looked into his eyes again. “Oh, Henry.” Everything came rushing forth. Her tears came, like a dam had been broken, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “I love you, I’ve always loved you, I never want to be without you,” she confessed. She pulled back to look into his face again. “Last night was the most terrifying night of my life. I thought I’d lost you forever. I never want to go through that again. You have to know what you mean to me, I will never leave my feelings unsaid ever again.”

He nodded, his own eyes glossy with unshed tears. He kissed her again, deeply, desperately, pouring everything he felt into that kiss. A foreign sensation came to life within his belly. A need to great that it would have been enough to drive him to his knees if he’d been standing. His kisses became hungrier, hands wandering, needing to feel her skin, needing her body against his, to show her how much he loved her, to become one with her.

“Henry,” she gasped against his mouth, when she realized how far things were going. “Henry, we can’t.”

But he shook his head, looking at her pleadingly. “Please. I want...to show you how much I love you.”

His words were so sincere. There was nothing perverted about them. He wasn’t trying to take what he wanted for his own carnal pleasure. This was an act of pure, wholesome intimacy. Two people coming together as a result of the love they had for each other.

She touched his cheek. “You’ve just been through a very traumatic experience. I’m not sure that this is a good idea.” That wasn’t to say that she didn’t want him, because she did. But she knew he’d been through trauma, and wasn’t sure how deep it ran. Resurfacing any bad memories or taking advantage of him was something she did not want to do. 

Henry shook his head. “Please.” He wouldn’t look away, his gaze so intense that she faltered. She, too, felt that sensation deep within her, a need so great that it was overwhelming.

She took pause, unsure of what to do. She placed her hands over his own. “Have...have you ever done this before?”

He was quiet for a moment. He reached into the depths of his memory. Yes, he had done this before. Not since he’d been locked away beneath Shawshank, but even so, he had done it before. However, it had been so long since, he felt like he was learning about it for the first time all over again. But he answered anyway.

“Yes,” came his whisper. He hoped she wouldn’t ask any further questions about it. Much to his relief, she didn’t press, she only nodded thoughtfully.

“Henry…” She spoke his name again. But he didn’t let her finish what she was trying to say. He moved to kiss her again. A sweet press of his lips against hers, but it still left her breathless, and she was overcome with emotion, eyes filling with tears as she pulled him closer. “I love you.” She repeated the words she’d uttered moments before. “I love you so much.”

She held his face in her hands, kissing him again, hard. She couldn’t hold him close enough it felt like. She needed to be pressed against him. He, too, felt this need, and slowly pulled her into his lap, one hand cupping the back of her head while the other rested upon the side of her neck. He stroked the skin there before he ever so gently began pressing soft kisses to her throat, moving upwards until he found her lips again.

They found each other there, in the middle of her living room on Christmas morning. It was as if this was how it was always meant to be. What followed felt so natural, so right. Any of her fears and doubts began to subside, soon replaced by the welcome warmth of desire. It had been so long since she’d felt this way, so long since she’d been with any man. She’d been too preoccupied with taking care of Henry that she hadn’t had time for anyone else. And who’d have known that he would soon become the only man she’d ever want?

Their kisses grew sloppy, comfortable and warm, wet on their lips. His shivering had long since ceased, and being flush against her in such a way had his whole body going warm, blood rushing to other places. Soon, she could feel him, the evidence of his arousal pressing between her legs from where she was sitting astride his lap. He locked eyes with her then, his cheeks blushing rosy. She only smiled, kissing him as she oh so slowly rocked her hips against his, pulling the most precious of gasps from him.

His lips parted, and he tightened his grip on her, as if he was afraid she’d float away. He gazed up at her with wide, glistening eyes. “Want you,” he confessed. “Only you.”

She nodded, running a hand through his soft hair. “I want you too. You’re all I want.”

He whimpered softly, sliding his hand down to the hem of her shirt, letting his spindly fingers nudge beneath the fabric. She shivered when he touched her bare skin. He seemed to like this reaction, and soon he was running both hands over her skin beneath her shirt. He hesitantly cupped her breasts, and watched as she sighed, eyes fluttering shut. He began to gently squeeze the soft flesh, soon moving to lift her shirt and watch in wonderment at the sight.

She leaned back, shrugging out of her shirt before she took a moment to remove her bra, exposing her chest completely. His eyes widened, and he reached out to touch her again, cupping, squeezing, running his thumbs over the soft buds that soon pebbled beneath his touch. She leaned into his touch, and her reaction only spurred him on.

He looked at her questioningly. “May I...kiss them?” He asked so sweetly that she couldn’t say no.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

He ducked forward, pressing a kiss to the top swell of her right breast before moving to the other one. After hesitating for a moment, he wrapped his lips around a pert nipple, suckling gently. When she moaned, he continued, wanting to hear that sound again. He was sure to pay attention to the other breast, and she responded by gently tugging at his hair. The feeling of his wet mouth on her skin sent a jolt of molten arousal between the meeting of her thighs, and she became more pliant in his hands.

“Henry,” she moaned. He hummed before pulling back to look up at her, pupils blown, lips wet, cheeks pink. He looked gorgeous, and she whimpered at the sight. “T-touch me.” She took his hand and guided it down, past the waistband of her pants and underwear. A moment later, his fingers found the very center of her, and he let out the quietest of gasps. She was wet, slick beneath his fingers.

She maneuvered around so that she could remove her pants, leaving her completely bare. He took in the sight of her body, and lowly groaned, unable to keep himself from running his hands over her. She let him do so before she began cautiously tugging at his clothes.

“Are you certain you want this?” She asked him.

He nodded, eyes never leaving her. “Yes.” He left no room for doubt.

His clothes were discarded one by one, and soon she was met with the sight of his body. She looked at him in awe, taking her time as she climbed into his lap again. He was hard, throbbing for her. She shuddered at the thought of him filling her. She craved it.

“Please.” Soft, innocent, needy. He begged for her, and she couldn’t keep him waiting. She reached down, wrapping her fingers around him, tugging slowly before she positioned him properly, sliding down onto him. They moaned in unison at the feeling. She was so snug and warm around him. He nearly lost himself right then and there. It had been so long since he’d felt this, and it was heavenly.

She placed her hands upon his shoulders as she sighed out, relishing in the feeling of being stretched so wonderfully. They fit together like they were always meant to. She let out a breath and placed her forehead against his. Gradually, she began moving, rocking her hips against his. It took some time, but she built up a rhythm. The room filled with gasps, moans, and whimpers. They made slow, sweet love, bodies entwined in the most intimate way imaginable. Henry confessed his love for her all over again, crying out for her. He couldn’t believe that everything was finally okay after the hell he’d been through. He’d found his new beginning. His past trauma was still there, but she helped quiet those voices, she calmed those fears. They’d been meant to find each other.

She clung to him, burying her face against his neck as she moved. He took over some, thrusting into her and hitting a spot that made her squeal and shudder. As he found his own rhythm and got used to it all, she reached down, fingers finding that little bud of nerves. She pleasured herself while she rode him, but when he noticed what she was doing, he stopped her.

“L-let me,” he timidly volunteered.

She smiled and nodded, taking his hand and bringing it down to where hers had been. After a moment of fumbling, he found that spot, and began to slowly massage it. That earned another moan and shudder from her, and he sped up his movements a little. He took this as a chance to bring his mouth to her skin again, suckling at her breast, which only sent more shocks of pleasure rippling through her.

She gasped out his name, holding onto him tightly as she whined and shivered and let the pleasure swallow her whole, taking her to a place she hadn’t been for a very long time. They treated one another with such tenderness, their love for each other bleeding from their actions. They held one another so close, not an inch of their bodies left untouching. Both of them were so touch starved, she realized. They couldn’t let go, nor did they want to.

By the end, she was a quivering mess in his arms, nearly sobbing from the pleasure and intensity. Henry tried his hardest to stave off the inevitable, but he soon succumbed to the overwhelming urge to let go, whimpering lowly as his hips stuttered to a slow, coating her surely throbbing walls with his pearlescent release. He hid his face in her neck as he came down, and she lovingly stroked his hair, but at the same time, she was so very close, she just needed a little more stimulation, and-

“Henry!” She cried his name, tipping over the edge as she gripped his hair, convulsing against him as she came.

Slowly, she floated down from the high, breath calming as she began to relax against him. Henry clutched her tightly to his body, never wanting to let go. That was okay, because she didn’t want to let go of him, either.

After several minutes, he finally moved, pulling back to look at her, eyes filled with love and adoration. He kissed her then, so deeply that it took her breath away completely. “I love you,” he repeated those words.

“And I love you, sweet Henry,” she replied, kissing his nose.

Finally, they parted, with Henry letting out a quiet hiss as she slid off of him. She guided him into the bathroom, where they took a warm shower, washing off the events of the morning, but holding on to the feeling of warmth and love that had blossomed between them.

After they were washed and dressed again in warm clothes, they found themselves back on the couch, cuddled up beneath a blanket, with a plate of gingerbread cookies between them. Her head rested upon his shoulders, and he held her hand in his own. They hadn’t spoken since their session of love making, and the silence was comfortable. But there were still so many things weighing heavy on his heart, so many things left unsaid. It was time, he realized. Time to tell her everything. What he’d been doing at the prison in the first place, who he really was, why he’d ended up in the woods the night before. 

He looked down at her then, and she looked up. He ran his fingers over her warm cheek, and breathed out through his nose. She cocked her head curiously, noticing he looked like he wanted to say something. “What?” She softly asked.

He was quiet for several moments, before he swallowed and soon began. “Let me tell you a story.”

And so, sitting there in her living room on that Christmas morning, he told her everything.


End file.
